


Carpe Diem

by minkhollow



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkhollow/pseuds/minkhollow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rebecca decides if they're milking this thing for all it's worth, there's no sense in doing it halfway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carpe Diem

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been planning to let this round go by without doing anything... and then someone went and posted Rebecca/Jack prompts. Moth to a flame, me. XD As with most things I do with these two, it can be taken as in-universe with Living in America or part of canon.  
> I am not Syfy; I'm just borrowing for fun. (And for porn.)

When Jack gets to Charlie’s office, Becks is already there - no surprise, really; she’s an early riser, and most everyone beats him to the Warehouse - armed with a few case reports and a bowl of cherries.

“Oh, so it’s going to be one of those days, is it?” he says, grabbing four or five cherries for himself on his way to his own desk.

Becks doesn’t even glance up. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’s got a feeling that’s bullshit, but he lets it go for now; he sits down at his desk, lights a cigarette and starts looking for something to look busy with before Charlie comes in and starts handing around case files. What he ends up doing instead is watch Becks work on her mid-morning snack. She’s taking her time with those cherries, slowly working the fruit off the pits before dropping the remains into the ash tray that’s on everyone’s desk out of habit, even though Becks is about the only person here who doesn’t put it to its intended use.

It’s about the point where she actually licks her fingers in a public setting that Jack’s sure she’s teasing him - not only that, but driving him to distraction. It’s definitely going to be one of those days.

Fortunately, he remembers to look busy when Charlie makes his grand and grumpy entrance (not that Becks is any less distracting). It’s the usual passing around of case files and brief mentions of bizarre incidents to go along with them, until he realises they’ve been left out. That’s unusual; neither of them was hurt during field work recently, and Mrs. Frederic seems to like having them out on retrievals.

He can’t help asking about it. “What about us?”

“Inventory,” Charlie says.

Jack almost protests - inventory’s usually what the desk girls do, when they’re not... desking - but before he can, Becks gets up, emptying her ash tray into the garbage can. “I suppose we’d better get to it, then,” she says, heading for the door out to the Warehouse floor; she drops a piece of paper on Jack’s desk as she walks by.

It’s a set of aisle coordinates and three words: _Bring a doorstop_. Jack has no idea what the hell Becks means by that, but he fishes a decent-sized rock that should do the trick out of a desk drawer and follows her before Charlie can gripe at him. (He’s pretty sure Phyllis and Betty are laughing at him as he goes, but he doesn’t know what they think is so funny; it’s not like they can’t be just as bad, when they’re in the mood.)

It’s a bit of a walk, made longer by the fact that Jack’s not the best with a set of coordinates and nothing else to go on, but he eventually finds Becks in a spot not too far from the Lovelace mainframe, where some of the bigger Artifacts are stored. “Okay, am I just carrying around a rock because you wanted me to look ridiculous?”

“Hardly,” Becks says. “You’re carrying a rock around because I don’t want to have to call for help. It would be one thing if I could guarantee we were calling Phyllis, but as things stand, I’m not taking that chance.” She leads him around a corner, to--

“What’s the B&B doing here?” Jack says, before he can stop himself.

“Seems there was a painting put in about twenty years ago that traps people in it, if you don’t leave the door you came in through open.”

“That would definitely be a problem. So what’s that got to do with inventory?”

Becks grabs him by the tie and treats him to the kind of smirk that Jack would have thought her incapable of, when they first started working together. “Oh, it has nothing to do with inventory and everything to do with what you’re going to do to me in one of those bedrooms. So you can see why I’d rather not have to explain this to Charlie.”

“I can indeed,” Jack says - or starts to, but Becks is kissing him senseless before he gets a chance to finish, and then the next thing he knows she’s telling him to put the rock down in the door frame, so he does.

They’ve got each other’s shirts off before they make it to the first of those promised bedrooms; Jack wastes no time in going for the clasp on her bra, but Becks slides out of his grip before he can get it undone. “Oh, no, not yet. Not until I say so.”

“Awww, Becks...”

“I thought you would be better at taking orders than that, Marine,” she says, eyebrow raised just so, and damn if that doesn’t go straight to his cock. Becks smirks again and sets about unpinning her hair; it’s less complicated of a do than her usual beehive, but he still wouldn’t have imagined she needed that much metal to hold it in place.

By the time she’s done, Jack can’t decide if he’d rather she left it down more often or if Charlie complaining about their sudden decrease in productivity would be more trouble than it’s worth.

She sets the pile of hair pins on the end table, and says, “Now, where were we?”

“Somewhere around--” And then Jack remembers that time in Hartford, when he thought he was making progress with Becks but couldn’t be sure and he told her not to get her panties in a twist, and the question comes out before he can stop it. “So am I allowed to be concerned about the state of your undergarments now?”

Becks makes a show of considering the question (just to taunt him all the more, he’s sure; it works). “Oh, all right,” she says, with the air of granting him an enormous favor. “This once, I suppose you’re allowed.”

“Good, because I’m currently very concerned that they’re still on you.”

She seems just as concerned about the remainder of his clothes, so Jack thinks that works out pretty well, in the end. Once they’re both undressed, she proceeds to make him do all the work with very little in the way of reciprocation, but he can’t really bring himself to mind - she feels good in his hands and tastes even better, and that’s enough to keep him very, very invested in the outcome of this endeavor.

And then, just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, Becks smirks again, pushes him back on the bed and straddles him - and God help him, he’s loving every minute of it.

When they’re both spent, and she’s collapsed on top of him (not that he really wants her to move), Jack says, “So how long have you been planning this, anyway?”

Becks laughs into his shoulder. “Three weeks. Gus said he’d keep us off the retrieval rotation - I’m not asking what he told Mrs. Frederic to do that - and Phyllis and Betty recommended a good spot, and it fell into place from there.”

“Of course half the office was in on it.”

“Only a third. I’m not telling everyone about our private life. Besides, if I was going to do this properly, I needed somewhere that wasn’t going to... adversely affect the experience, shall we say.”

Jack shakes his head, and runs a hand through her hair. “There you go thinking of every way something might go wrong again. Hell, I’m surprised you didn’t insist on a condom.”

Becks sort of shrugs, the best she can without really moving. “I figure if we’re milking this for all it’s worth, there’s no point in doing it halfway. If something happens, I’ll figure it out from there.”

They both just lie there for a while; Becks shifts off him just as he’s about to mention it’s getting difficult to breathe, and says, “So, did that live up to all the fantasizing you’ve no doubt been doing since you met me?”

Jack grins. “My imagination pales in comparison, actually.”


End file.
